


Not Like Them

by JadeJem



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien - Freeform, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Luka - Freeform, Lukanette, adrienette - Freeform, but like, he gonna be fine, he just wants to be loved, he sad, i think, poor Nath, sad tomatao boi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 01:35:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14250249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeJem/pseuds/JadeJem
Summary: 'Two of them,' Nathaniel muses bitterly. 'There are two of them now.'





	Not Like Them

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, loves! Got super inspired by an art piece from Miraculous Amino. 
> 
> Enjoy the flungst (fluff x angst ahah) . ;D

It was raining that day.

The sky had thundered and boomed, and the streets were flooding.

Every child had been pressed up against one another in the darkest corner of the room, as far from the windows as possible. Lightning had cracked, and the group had screamed. 

The teacher hushed them, ensuring that they were going to be okay.

No one believed her. The world felt like it was ending, and as six-year-old Nathaniel shuddered at the thought of drenching his tiny sketchbook when the firemen finally came for them, a little girl stood up, gripping her shaking arms. 

"M-Miss Cartier is right," she had said, twin-tails swishing as she spoke with convinction. "We're going to be okay." She loomed over them confidently, and even dared to make her way towards the windows on the far side of the room.

"Marinette!" a darker boy wearing a bright red cap shouted, standing and reaching for her. 

She had waved him off.

Lighting cracked once more, and she flinched slightly before lowering her arms and pressing her fingers to the glass.

The children cowering in the corner inhaled; even Nathaniel watched her with bated breath. Lights danced in the clouds, and the girl whose name Nathaniel did not know turned and waved everyone over.

Hesitantly, the other first graders began toeing their way towards her, cringing under the attention of the storm crackling outside of the windows. 

Nathaniel stayed where he was, holding on to his sketchbook and merely staring. He couldn't join them, he realized. He couldn't. Not after what had happened with his father...

He shivered, closing his eyes at the unpleasant memory of red paint soaking his usually pristine white dress shirt. He wasn't exactly sure of what had happened, but Mommy had told him that Daddy wasn't going to come back from his field-trip to the hospital.

Nathaniel had begun to cry, and his mother had told him to be quiet.

A finger had tapped his knee, and Nathaniel jumped at the sudden contact, his eyes flying open.

Bright blue met cerulean-blue, and he blinked. She smiled at him, offering a hand his way. Nathaniel stared at the pink barrette holding her wayward strands of hair back. Maybe he could use a barrette, too.

"Who are you?" Nathaniel finally asked, looking from her hand back to her doe-like eyes. A light wave of freckles dotted her button-nose, and he was almost tempted to try and count them.

"Marinette Dupian-Cheng," she announced proudly, her arm still extended. "You're Nath, right?"

Nathaniel opened his mouth to correct her (no one had ever called him Nath before), but the words wouldn't come. He simply nodded mutely.

"There's nothing to be afraid of," Marinette finally said, lowering her arm to her side. "It's actually really pretty." She spun on her heel and sat down next to him.

He pressed his back further against the cabinet. "My Daddy went on a field-trip to the hospital because of a storm last year."

Marinette's eyes widened in interest. "Did he have fun?"

"I don't know," Nathaniel admitted. "He hasn't come home yet." He left out the 'probably never will' part for her sake. 

Her expression fell. "Oh." She seemed to be contemplating something before she spoke again. "When I'm scared, Papa always holds my hand. Do you want me to hold your hand?"

The thought struck Nathaniel as odd. His Mommy didn't hold his hand anymore.

"Will I be less scared?" Nathaniel asked softly, looking to Marinette as if she knew everything there is to know in the world. 

"You might be," she stated simply, pushing herself to her feet before extending her hand a second time. "Do you trust me?"

He did. He didn't know why or how, but he did.

In response to her question, he grabbed her hand and let her pull him to his feet. They were about the same height, and Nathaniel shrunk away in embarrassment when she grabbed his hand and started pulling him.

This felt different than when his Mommy or Daddy used to hold his hand. It felt... weird.

The closer they got to the window, the more Nathaniel dug his heels into the floor. He didn't like this. He didn't like this at all.

Marinette stopped walking and turned to face him. "Hey," she soothed gently, putting her hand on his shoulder, "it's okay. You've got my lucky hand."

"Your lucky hand?" Nathaniel all but laughed, feeling the ball of anxiety curled up within his chest loosen ever so slightly. 

"Yeah," Marinette giggled, squeezing his fingers, "my lucky hand. This hand can do anything it wants to. It touched the window."

Nathaniel eyed the hand wrapped in his for a moment. "Is it magical?"

Marinette sniffed. "I'd like to think so." And with that, she began to pull him along again. 

Fear reared its head, and Nathaniel almost dug his heels into the floor again before remembering that he was holding Marinette's lucky hand. Surely, nothing bad would happen, right?

And there it was. The sky laid out before his eyes. Spiderweb-like patterns snaked across the horizon with each new flash of lightning before retreating into the clouds. Nathaniel was vaguely reminded of fireworks fizzling out. 

He let go of Marinette's hand and pressed it to the glass. Now maybe he, too, would have a lucky hand. 

***   *   ***

Nathaniel wakes with a start, his eyes heavy, and his body overheating. He throws the covers off of himself, turning and hugging his sides as his bare feet make contact with the cold, wooden floor. 

The memory is fresh in his mind as he hisses away from the freezing surface beneath him. For a moment, he allows himself to soak in the fact that he has been devoted to Marinette Dupain-Cheng for ten years now. 

However, the slight achievement is tossed to the side when he recalls the earlier events of this past week.

 _Two of them,_ he muses bitterly.  _There are two of them now._

Adrien Agreste is a really cool guy. He's kind, respectful, thoughtful, intelligent, and much too attractive for how oblivious he is. 

Nathaniel has never really spent time with Adrien, but he knows enough to acknowledge that he's pretty damn close to perfect. It's very hard to dislike him, but man, has Nathaniel been trying. 

He wants to say he's noble and will step aside for Marinette's sake, what, with her being in love with Adrien and everything. But he can't step aside because he's never been in the way. He's been watching from the sidelines this whole time because, really, did he ever even have a chance to begin with?

Nathaniel begins pacing, running his hands through his disheveled hair as thunder booms outside of his window.

But part of him kept hoping. Part of him kept thinking that maybe, just maybe, she would turn her head in his direction and see him pining for her. 

And then Luka showed up. 

Like the flashes of lightning he'd witnessed ten years ago, Luka had simply appeared. The only difference between Luka and lightning is that Luka has not yet disappeared, whereas the lightning is gone before you can really even see it. He's still here, and he seems keen on winning over Marinette.

If Nathaniel didn't know any better, he'd suspect that Luka has some sort of... ulterior motive.

Or maybe he's just into Marinette.

"Honestly, who isn't?" Nathaniel asks the rain-spotted window sarcastically, pausing in his constant movement to sigh forlornly. So what if he's being all angsty and depressing? It's not fair. He's been trying to be suave enough to admit his feelings for Marinette for years now. 

Adrien's only been around for one school year, and Luka's only been around for one  _week._

Nathaniel leans his forehead against the cold glass, his eyes fluttering shut. 

"I'll never win, will I?" 

He bangs his fist on the window, the ache in his chest expanding. It's like he's had a fish hook sunken in for years, and now he's finally being tugged towards the surface. 

And it  _hurts._

His eyes sting, and he fights the sob rising within him. 

"Sh-she'll never love me the same way."

The words are vile on his tongue, the acidity threatening to burn him alive.

"I'm not like them."

Is he too scrawny? Too shy? Would things be different now if he had said something sooner? Too short? Too feminine? Too artistic in all of the wrong ways? What is he missing? What's the key?

He bangs on the thick glass again, screwing his eyes shut further once the tears break free. "Damn it. Damn it, damn it,  _damn it!"_  He's sobbing now, and only the thunder outside of his window can mask his cries of despair. 

"I'm not like them," he manages, curling in on himself and melting to the floor. "I'm not enough like them." 

Shame twists and turns within him, making him feel more nauseous by the minute. This is pathetic. 

_This is the cost of love._

When will he be done paying his dues?

**Author's Note:**

> Why don't I write tomato boi more often?
> 
> Well. That was emotionally traumatizing. Tbh, I loved writing this... which is weird because I usually don't like angst. 
> 
> If you guys enjoyed this smidgen of whatever this was (flungst), leave me a comment. I like getting good feedback. :)
> 
> Xoxo, J.


End file.
